


just let it out (light it up)

by ThirtySixSaveFiles



Series: More Bang for Your Buck: Persona Edition [3]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: Light D/s, M/M, Selfcest, Threesome, literally just porn, persona banging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-30
Updated: 2018-04-30
Packaged: 2019-04-30 02:03:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14486397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThirtySixSaveFiles/pseuds/ThirtySixSaveFiles
Summary: There's nothing Akira would rather be doing than this; but some days in Mementos are longer than others, and some burdens are easier if they're put down for a while.





	just let it out (light it up)

**Author's Note:**

> This story absolutely wouldn't exist without [ohnoktcsk](http://ohnoktcsk.tumblr.com) and [fleurdeliser](http://fleurdeliser.tumblr.com). Thank you for spinning this out on Discord and letting me run with it.
> 
> This story takes place some length of time after _a knife is only as good as the one who wields it_.

Akira closes the door to Leblanc behind him and leans back against it for just a moment, closing his eyes. He breathes in and out through his nose, but the tiredness is somewhere deeper than his bones and a few deep breaths isn’t going to exorcise it.

It’s been - a  _ long _ couple of days. The target is proving particularly elusive, and the changing nature of Mementos means that each foray is backtracking through old territory made new, familiar but not familiar  _ enough _ to navigate by. The Shadows seem unusually active, too; there’s been more than one incident where Akira’s had to make a sharp u-turn and step on the gas to avoid the rattling of chains, and one where the Reaper tried to materialize right after a fight with some otherwise ordinary pixies. That had been close; Akira can still feel the ghost of the panic sitting heavy in his gut as he had  _ thrown _ Skull into the bus and vaulted into the driver’s seat.

It’s not that Akira doesn’t want to be doing this; he does. He was  _ meant _ for this. He’s just...tired - tired of being responsible, of holding his friend’s lives in his hands - in a way that even a good night’s sleep isn’t going to fix.

A cool gloved hand touches his cheek and a low familiar voice murmurs, “Let me help.”

Akira blinks his eyes open. The cafe is dim and empty, but there’s a quick flutter of a long black coat disappearing up the stairs.

He follows.

Akira’s school bag  _ thunks  _ heavily down at the top of the stairs. Schoolbooks are all that’s in it, tonight; Morgana’s off investigating Mementos, trying to get a bead on where they’re going wrong. Akira kicks his shoes off and waits; between one breath and the next Joker is standing in front of him, hand reaching out to cup Akira’s chin, rubbing a gloved thumb over his lips.

“Close your eyes,” Joker says, low and firm, and Akira does, breath leaving him in a rush.

Joker takes his hand and tugs him forward a few steps, further into the room. His glasses are lifted carefully away from his face, and after a moment Joker’s hands move to the buttons of Akira’s jacket. The muscles in Akira’s stomach clench as gloved fingertips brush against his shirt, then the hands move to Akira’s shoulders and slide the jacket down his arms.

Akira keeps his eyes closed, as he’s been told.

Joker strips him quickly and efficiently then puts his hands on Akira’s shoulders and pushes down; Akira sinks to his knees with only the slightest hesitation. He’d been surprised, the first time, at how  _ easy _ this was with Joker; the list of people Akira would willingly give up control to is vanishingly small, but Joker...just sort of side steps that list entirely. Joker doesn’t mean him any harm. Joker is...safe, for all that he very much isn’t.

Joker also knows him inside and out, knows exactly how hard to fist his hand in Akira’s hair to make him gasp and screw his eyes shut to keep them closed.

“Blindfold?” Joker offers. Akira considers, then shakes his head, feeling the strain on his scalp against Joker’s fist in his hair. He can keep his eyes closed. He can already feel the world start to go hazy at the edges, the barbed coils around his spine loosening minutely.

Joker hums, and says “Open your mouth.”

Akira does, breath starting to come faster. Two gloved fingers trace his lips, then slide in over his tongue, and Akira doesn’t need to be told this part; he closes his lips around Joker’s fingers with a faint moan of gratitude and  _ sucks _ , the taste of leather and gun oil heavy on his tongue as Joker’s fingers move steadily in and out of his mouth. The smell of gunsmoke rises in his nose, and Akira remembers firing on a succubus that almost gotten to Mona, he had almost been  _ too slow - _

“Stop that,” Joker says sharply, and the hand in his hair tugs. “Forget all of that. The only thing that matters is my voice.” He says it with such confidence that it becomes true, a little bit, and Akira exhales through his nose, his shoulders loosening.

“Good,” Joker says, the praise wrapping Akira up warm in the darkness. Joker taps another finger on his lips and Akira moans again as it slides in. Three fingers stretches his mouth, not uncomfortably so but in promise of what’s coming next, and Akira can’t help the faint whine of disappointment when Joker withdraws his fingers.

“I’ve got you,” Joker says, and there’s the pop of a button, the distinctive sound of a zipper, the rustle of fabric. “We’ve got you,” he says and there’s the rustling sweep of wings across the floor behind Akira. Large clawed hands curl around his shoulders, the tips barely grazing his skin, and Akira leans back into Arsene.

The first time they had done this, Akira had choked, eyes watering; he’s better at it now, but he still appreciates the slow feed of Joker’s cock past his lips, the heavy velvet weight on his tongue. It stretches his mouth more than just fingers, and Akira feels something in him start to settle.

“ _ Good, _ ” Arsene rumbles behind him, one clawed hand leaving Akira’s shoulder to rest at the back of his head; not pushing, not yet, but holding him firmly in place as Joker fucks his mouth.

Akira breathes through his nose and relaxes his throat as best he can, letting their hands on him hold him safe, hold him secure. He’s feeling loose around the edges but the world is still too present; his spine still feels too straight, the shade of that clawing panic from earlier still rattling around in his chest, and when Joker gives him a chance to catch his breath the first word out of Akira’s mouth is “ _ please _ .”

“Please?” Joker says, sounding only slightly out of breath. The hand in Akira’s hair uncurls, petting over his scalp. “Please what?”

“Please, I need -” Akira coughs and swallows, his voice scratchy, but he keeps his eyes squeezed shut. “Please.  _ More _ .”

Joker hums again, then he’s shifting, the hand in Akira’s hair sliding down to cup his cheek as he settles across Akira’s thighs, the fabric of his pants smooth against Akira’s bare skin. He takes Akira’s face in both hands, and then his lips are on Akira’s, slow and sure and confident, like he has all the time in the world.

“We can give you more,” he says when he pulls back, voice low and husky. Arsene chuckles his agreement, his amusement licking at Akira’s back like flames.

Arsene’s hands slide down his back, and Akira shivers at the almost-tickle of talons skating over his skin. Joker slides backwards as Arsene gets his palms on Akira’s ass and lifts him effortlessly onto his knees. Akira falls forward but Joker’s there to catch him, arms sliding around Akira’s back and pressing his face into Joker’s neck. Arsene gathers Akira’s arms in one giant hand and Joker shifts, holding Akira steady with one arm. There’s a grunt and noise like a glove hitting the ground, and Akira shivers again in anticipation. After a long moment where Akira’s heart pounds in his ears, Joker’s hand returns, palm skating over Akira’s side and fingers circling cool and slick between his cheeks.

Akira shudders as the first finger presses in, turning his face into the leather of Joker’s coat and breathing deeply, letting the familiar scent settle deep in his lungs. Cool talons run through his hair as Joker stretches him slowly and carefully, until Akira is rocking back on Joker’s fingers, caught between Arsene’s hands and Joker’s arms, ready to vibrate out of his skin.

“ _ Please _ ,” he gasps out again, trying to shift further down on Joker’s fingers - he needs  _ more _ , this isn’t enough, why aren’t they giving him what he  _ needs _ \- and gasping when Joker shifts against him, the teasing brush of Joker’s cock against his own sending bolts of lightning up his spine.

“Patience,” Joker murmurs in his ear, laughter threading through his voice, but he pulls his fingers out and Akira sucks in a breath in anticipation as Joker’s hands shift to Akira’s hips.

“Breathe,” Joker advises as one taloned hand closes over Joker’s on Akira’s hip, pulling him up and backward until something large and blunt and  _ hot _ presses against his entrance. Akira’s head lolls back, eyes screwed shut and breath coming in short pants as they press him down on Arsene’s cock.

_ No _ amount of stretching is ever really enough for this; but the burn turns into something warmer, something liquid in his gut as Arsene presses into him. Jokers hands slide back up his chest to his face, and he pushes close against Akira’s front, pressing kisses to Akira’s throat and jaw and mouth, murmuring things like “look at you,” and “so good,” and “knew you could.” The praise blooms in Akira’s chest, and he kisses back fiercely when Joker’s lips find his again, shifting a little on trembling thighs to feel Arsene deep inside him.

Joker chuckles against his lips. “Good? Tell me you’re good,” he says, running a hand through Akira’s hair. Akira hums, leaning into it, feeling safe and secure and protected between the heat at his back and the hands on his face.

“ _ Akira _ .” Joker’s tone turns sharper and his hand turns firmer on Akira’s jaw. “Good?”

“Yeah, I -” Akira breathes deep for a moment, attempting to settle the swirling in his chest. It does, after a moment, the fuzzy edges receding. “I’m good.  _ Don’t stop _ .”

“ _ Good _ ,” Joker says, nipping at the corner of his mouth, and Akira gasps. Joker shifts back, and Akira barely has time to shiver as his warmth moves away before a hand is fisting in his hair again and Joker says, “Open up.”

Akira drops his mouth open greedily, and  _ this _ is what he’d been missing, the burning stretch of Arsene in his ass as Joker fucks into his mouth. Arsene waits until Joker is settled to start moving, gripping Akira’s wrists in one hand, the claws of the other digging into Akira’s thigh as he presses in. He’s  _ big _ , and Akira squirms to feel it inside him, dragging over his insides and drawing muffled noises from his chest. His own cock brushes hard and untouched against his stomach, but he could probably come from just this, from Joker’s cock in his mouth and Arsene pressing large and obscene inside him, their murmured words of praise lighting up his head.

A thumb traces along his cheekbone, smearing liquid, and Akira realizes that the choked off, sobbing moans he’s hearing are coming from  _ him _ . They seem distant, though, far from the warmth of the hands on him, holding him fast and secure and far away from the need to be the  _ leader _ , to always  _ know _ . Here he just has to be  _ good _ , to let Joker and Arsene take care of him and drive away all the rest.

He feels a thumb trace over his lips, sliding in the slick, and Joker says, “Do you want to swallow?” Akira makes a muffled noise deep in his throat, which Joker correctly interprets as  _ yes _ because he tightens his grip in Akira’s hair, thrusts going slightly erratic.

“I’m -” he curses, and that’s all the warning Akira gets before Joker’s thrusting hard against the back of his throat. Akira relaxes and swallows as best he can, but he still coughs when Joker pulls out of his mouth. There’s a  _ thud _ as Joker drops to his knees and then his thumb is smearing over Akira’s mouth, wiping away the mess. Joker kisses him fiercely, holding him steady against Arsene’s thrusts.

“So good,” Joker murmurs as he he pulls back. “Are you ready?” he asks, and Akira nods.

Akira nearly sobs when Joker wraps one gloved hand around his cock. His hips try to jerk when Joker runs a thumb over the head, but Arsene holds him fast, an implacable blazing presence at his back, and Akira tosses his head back, heedless of the tears that are running down his cheeks. 

“We’ve got you,” Joker says, pressing in close again and wrapping an arm around him. “We’ve got you,” he repeats, and this time Akira  _ does _ sob as his body wrings tight, shaking apart even as he’s held fast between them.

When he comes back to himself he feels stretched and empty, Joker’s arms the only things keeping him upright. The warmth at his back is fading, and as he cracks an eye and peers over his shoulder, Arsene is already fading, the flame of his grin the last to go, a few ink-black feathers and the soreness in Akira’s ass the only hint he was ever here. Akira turns his face back into Joker’s chest and lets Joker gather him up, lifting him like he weighs nothing and carrying him the short distance to his bed.

The sheets are cool against his overheated skin as Joker tucks him in, and Akira doesn’t have the energy to do much besides lay there and watch Joker readjust his clothing, pulling his boots off and and shrugging off his coat. He slides in beside Akira, and there’s barely room for two in this bed but it just means that Joker can pull him close and Akira can breathe out against Joker’s chest, held safe for a little while longer.

“Better?” Joker murmurs into his hair, although it sounds like he already knows the answer.

Akira considers; he feels loose-limbed and sore, but the bone-deep tiredness from earlier has been washed away, replaced with a pleasant fuzzy exhaustion that means it won’t be long before he’s asleep. He probably won’t dream, either.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, stretching up to brush his lips over Joker’s throat.

Joker holds him tighter, and Akira sighs, relaxing into it.

“Anything for you,” Joker says lightly, but it has the ring of a promise, and it follows Akira down as he closes his eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me at [ThirtySixSaveFiles](http://thirtysixsavefiles.tumblr.com) on Tumblr!


End file.
